"Might I," quavered Mary, "might I have a bit of earth?"
The Secret Garden

Tuesday, August 2, 2016

Today
I realized that I have become one of those
people. You know, one of those people who is so kooky and fringy that
no one really takes them seriously.

Yeah, I've become one of those
people.

A couple of nice young women from my church, looking for a
service project, asked if they could help me with some yard work. I
was happy to have the help. During a break, when I had brought them
some lemonade, I showed them the foundation of the tiny house I was
building. I was surprised that they had never heard of tiny houses or
the tiny house movement. As I tried to explain the plan to them,
they were positive in that way that people are when they are trying
to be polite, and
don't want to openly tell you that you are a loon.

This is a possible scenario I struggled to avoid for some time.

For a long time, I went over my options again and again. I
wanted to leave my house. To be done with it. I felt that my whole
life revolved around paying for and taking care of my house and I
could not effectively do both. Earning money took far too much time
to have any sort of a life. Any spare time was often spent just
trying to catch up on
chores and housework.
There was never any time for anything. I was exhausted and in despair
of my situation and my unkempt home.

Before
I bought my house, I had seriously considered building a tiny house,
but felt at the time that I did not have either the resources or the
support system to make it happen. After I bought my house, I believed that once the dust settled from the purchase and the move, that I would be able to begin saving money again-- I had been very good at it up to that point. But the reality was that over the course of the next 7 years, not only was I not able to really begin saving money again, but every year I found myself farther and farther in the hole. My savings dwindled and dried. And every time I did begin to put money away again, something would happen to eat those few savings. Over the last year, I came to a breaking point. I worked at sketchier jobs than
I have ever worked in my life and I labored most especially under the
weight of depression. I went round and round about the notion of the
tiny house that I might build. The idea of a space that was
debt-free, bill-free and in need of very little care and maintenance
was a beautiful one; but at the same time, there were doubts. The
house I had was a good one. I was fortunate to have found something
in so ideal a location with so many benefits. People would think I
was deranged if I gave it all up to live in-- essentially-- a garden
shed. And where would I place it? Where would I find a piece of land
as ideally situated? It especially seemed like a crazy idea when I
went to visit
a home that was tidy and well kept with conservative home owners.
Such an idea as mine would not only look like insanity to people like
this, but
I feared that making the attempt would put me so far outside the realm
of normal humans that nobody would ever take me seriously ever again.I considered the
possibility of renting out the house and putting the tiny in the back
yard, but it seemed like too complicated an endeavor to undertake at
a time when I was looking to simplify. What if the
renters
destroyed the house that I was still legally and financially
responsible for? What if they stopped paying rent? The procedures
for either scenario was too complicated to think about. I just
needed to sell the house if I was going to get out from under the
darkness I was in. I considered the possibility of staying in the
house and trying to make the situation better, but I'd been there
eight years already and things only got leaner with every passing
year. No, selling it was all that was left.

It
was one
night, working at a home improvement store, that I realized the
solution I kept coming back to was to get out. And the only way I
could see to do that was to sell. So, I decided, however crazy it
may end up being, however crazy it may look to anyone else, I just had to sell.

My
dad came to pick me up from work that night. I told him my plan to
sell my house, use the proceeds to buy
a small piece of land out right and build a tiny house. Then I asked
if he would help me get my house ready to sell. He said, “Okay,”
like it wasn't the craziest thing he'd ever heard. On the contrary,
he acknowledged that he could see that the house was killing me.
That was a surprise to me since I didn't think that my parents were
aware of much. But that was also the night the depression lifted and
I got excited about my life again. Suddenly, I was excited about what the future might hold. I could see possibility again.

Since then the plan has changed slightly. My parents will be my tenants. I feel better having them as tenants because, I can still keep tabs on the house and help out when I see a problem. I will build my tiny in the back yard and we will split expenses. They can afford to retire. So can I. I can also stay in a neighborhood that I like.

I
knew that being the crazy person and the odd-woman-out were
probabilities, but my life has only gotten better since I made the
decision. Everything just seems to be falling into place to make this happen. So, crazy or not, I simply can't afford to care anymore.
My life is SOOO much better and I am SOOOO much happier.